My First Cigarette Was While I Was Kissing Him
by I bring the mosh brah
Summary: Zeke remained asleep through this wonder; and Casey believed that the sitcom was watching this part of their teenage years. This was the safe haven. The grey place, where white and black did not exist except together.Slash.
1. Thoughts And Revelations

A/N: My friend is bisexual, and I'm the only one who knows. Everyday her parents ridicule homosexuality, saying it's disgusting, wrong, and appalling. For those of you who think it is, please click the back button. I've learned to see it from the other side, and my friend isn't concerned about sex and appearances nearly as much as the straight population in general. She loves another girl purely for her personality, and her soul. Homosexuals aren't "gay" or "strange", actually they're pretty cool. And I am a HUGE Zeke/Casey shipper. I think it's adorable how Zeke is the charming mature one that teaches Casey all about the things he doesn't know, and how he's amused by his innocence. They're a cute couple. Flame me if you will, but what's wrong about having an open mind? In this story, Casey is just developing into teenage angst and love. He's trying to understand how his love for Zeke can be right, and trying to avoid the fact that he thinks it's wrong.  
  
This story in three words: Cute. Sweet. Angsty.  
  
Enjoy this chapter and future ones.  
  
*  
  
Motionless.  
  
This is ever burning.  
  
Quiet.  
  
He's breathing slowly.  
  
So familiar. So tainted.  
  
Innocence like the lamb before his slaughter.  
  
Filthy images. Pleasant images. Laughter, faded. Eyes transfixed.  
  
His smile, the last image of hope. Hope and serenity tainted with cigarette smoke and meaningless kisses. Falling on the stairs, following his lost words. Gone. Death is his delight.  
  
Gone, his refuge. Gone, his Zeke.  
  
*  
  
Gasping for breath, Casey's delicately constructed fingers closed in around his bedsheets. His first sight were the numerals; 8:01. Late again.  
  
The elegant lashes framing his beautiful ocean avenue blue eyes still held the remnants of the past night's mare, replaying throughout his mind. His gentle grip on his camera tightened as his father came into view. And as much as he wanted to, he could not escape this house without a discolouring bruise set into his lush skin.  
  
"Late again, Case? You must be exhausted to have slept in again. Why don't I give you a ride, to save you from walking?" His father's business- like demeanour sickened Casey. Mr. Connor adjusted his black tie with the hand he struck his son with every night.  
  
"No thank-you. I'll walk." Casey placed the camera in his backpack, stopping for a moment to touch the lense softly. He smiled. So many images captured. Filthy images. Pleasant images. Images of Zeke.  
  
Mr. Connor chuckled slightly; Casey knew that laugh. Frustration. So tainted.  
  
Mr. Connor firmly laid a hand against the hall wall behind Casey's head. He turned his chocolate brown curls in dread, awaiting to bleed. Eyes transfixed.  
  
"Are you sure you don't want a ride, son?" his tone was enough to convince Casey that he didn't want to face the consequences. His gaze fell to the floor.  
  
"Okay. I'll wait in the car."  
  
Casey knew it was a mistake the second he slammed the car door. He shifted uncomfortably as his father, briefcase in hand, locked the front entrance.  
  
"Are you trying out for the football team? They've got openings. Ms. Drake called me yesterday, said the Coach will hold a spot for you if you're interested." Mr. Connor shifted in his seat as he revived the engine.  
  
"I'm not interested." Casey couldn't look his father in the eyes; he knew what was coming.  
  
"What the hell is wrong with you, son? Opportunities pass you by and you never grasp them! You could succeed!"  
  
The car took a sharp turn into a street Casey recognized that was nearby Herrington High. Houses were concealed behind billowing branches of trees, and the streetlights were glowing a dull orange. The car ceased vibrating. Casey turned to his father, only to be struck across the face with his fist. He felt a cold trickle from his nose. He bit his lip.  
  
Motionless.  
  
Quiet.  
  
"Fuck!" Mr. Connor slid out of the binds of the seatbelt. "Fuck you, Casey! What the hell is wrong with you? Why couldn't you be the son I've always wanted?" Casey began to tremble, fumbling for the door handle. Before he could move any further, Mr. Connor clutched his throat and slowly tightened his grasp.  
  
He's breathing slowly.  
  
Casey slammed his hand against the windows profusely. Damn these tinted windows.  
  
He felt his father's grip become more gentle as he placed his palm against Casey's flushed cheek.  
  
"When you were born I swore I thought you were female. Beautiful blue eyes, rosebud lips, and your mother's nose. You were... gorgeous. No one is born that beautiful without being violated and taken advantage of. I've always wanted to do this... you look just like your mother."  
  
He grabbed Casey's face and pressed his lips onto his.  
  
Innocence like the lamb before his slaughter.  
  
Casey tried desperately to scream as tears streaked his face. He could not understand what was happening; kisses are shared between lovers. This was not love, it was lust and disgusting. He had dreamed of kissing Zeke every miserable moment of his life... he longed for Zeke. Only he could comfort him.  
  
Casey struggled to grab his backpack as he felt his nosebleed thicken. He trembled as he unbuckled his seatbelt.  
  
For a single moment, everything was frozen. His heart ceased. His blood... motionless.  
  
Mr. Connor's fingertips were pressed inside his son's jeans.  
  
Casey cried out as he fell against the door handle. The car door was sent agape, Casey sent stumbling on the naked street across from Herrington High. Mr. Connor regained his composure and slammed the car door, whilst doing so rolling down the window.  
  
"I'll see you after school, Casey."  
  
As he faded from sight, obviously fuming, Casey silently prayed that he wouldn't.  
  
*  
  
*A/N: So what do you think? Don't worry, loads of Zeke/Caseyness ahead! I know, the image of Mr. Connor sexually abusing his son is disturbing, but, well, you'll get it later in the story.  
  
Love ya all!  
  
-mardini 


	2. Burning At My Lips

A/N: [Some people may think that smoking is addictive for the first time, but the first time I smoked I didn't crave any after. This is just my experience with smoking, but if you have other opinions, then you're entitled to think what you want, which I am totally on board with.]  
  
A lone figure slumped against the single darkened tree as the bell signalled for next period. He had spent the duration of the day here, crying and contemplating what was happening. Casey's eyes were bloodshot, his hair tousled and dried blood was still smeared across his cheek from the previous nosebleed. As Casey sat, distressed and confused, his eyes caught a glimmer inside his half-open bag. His camera.  
  
Gently he lifted it and faced it towards him, against the discoloured skies. Click. Flash. Another image captured. He could see the headlines now...  
  
"Young Boy Sexually Abused By Father; But Who Really Cares?"  
  
"I Mean- Shit- He's Just A Geek!"  
  
"A Sci-Fi Freak!"  
  
"Who Really Cares That His Name Is Casey?"  
  
"And He's Really A Nice Guy?"  
  
"Who Has The Biggest Crush On The School Druggie?"  
  
"Who Happens To Also Be Male?"  
  
"Fuck!" Casey shouted, as coherent as he could manage. He struck his fists against the jagged skin of the tree, drawing a small amount of blood from his knuckles. Before he could strike them again, a gentle but firm hand clasped his wrists. "Casey?"  
  
Casey glanced up, only to meet a handsome boy's gaze. "Zeke?"  
  
Zeke bent down beside him quickly, tenderly touching his cheek where the dried blood was smudged. "What happened to you? Why aren't you in class?"  
  
Casey's bottom lip quivered as fresh tears drowned in his eyes. "I- I.... Zeke.." The sudden action was unexpected and swift, but Zeke embraced Casey as he melted into his arms. Zeke didn't think of Casey as pathetic, but sensitive and easily upset. Though, this situation appeared to have shook him hard. Zeke slowly stood, Casey's arm draped around his shoulders and Zeke's hand comfortably around his waist. He felt the fabric of his shirt dampen with tears. Zeke trudged back to his car and helped Casey slid into the seat. He started the engine while lighting up a cigarette, carefully watching Casey. Casey's movements were slow, eyes teary and body limp. Zeke placed a warm hand atop his cold one.  
  
"How about we drop by my place, alright? You can tell me what happened there."  
Casey merely nodded.  
  
The ride to Zeke's was silent and slow-paced. Zeke tossed anxious glances over at Casey whenever he could tear his eyes away from the road, and Casey simply stared out the translucent window.  
  
As they reached their destination, Zeke had gone through three and a half cigarettes. The half smoked shred of loosly rolled tobacco dangled gently from his lips, and Casey then realized how dearly he wanted to kiss him. Zeke smiled at him worriedly as he parallel parked alongside the curb.  
  
Casey eyed the cigarette skeptically, "Smoking can cause lung cancer and heart diseases. It also slowly decays your teeth while poisoning your breath and causes nasty hollow fits of coughing."  
  
Zeke laughed suddenly, grinning cheekily at Casey as he tossed the cigarette butt out the window. "You know your stuff. But did you know that for first-timers, inhaling can cause a nice little dizziness? It feels pretty good, but I might quit. That effect has worn off on me." Zeke withdrew another cigarette. "But you could experience the effect." He offered Casey the cigarette.  
  
Casey bit down on his lip. "But once you smoke you're addicted."  
  
Zeke shrugged. "That's bullshit, man. I tried smoking way back in elementary school. I started last year."  
  
Casey, still looking nervous, accepted the cigarette, and Zeke lit it for him. Pressing his lips to the filter, sweat beads built on his forehead as he inhaled. At first he looked as though he may cough and splutter, but he held it in and took another drag.  
  
Zeke's desire to grab Casey and kiss him was overwhelming. Casey, the school geek, the virgin. Why was he so deeply attracted to those blue eyes and cute smile? He never thought he was gay, he still flirted with the occasional girl. But his feelings for Casey were more meaningful than any other relationship he had been in. Geez, did he have to look so cute while he smoked?  
  
The streaming yellow light broke into shards against the glass window and soaked into Casey's dark hair. The effect was angelic as a cotton ginger halo formed around Casey's head, and his blue eyes shone with the afterglow. Zeke watched in astonishment as the extremely attractive boy exhaled another breath of smoke. As the cigarette touched his lips once again, Zeke instantly regretted poisoning this innocent, soft virgin. He could bear it no longer.  
  
Zeke gently leaned in towards Casey and brushed his lips against his. Casey's eyes widened in shock but found himself delving into the kiss, Zeke's hand sliding down the nape of his neck. Zeke pushed harder against Casey's mouth; the boy's lips were so soft; it felt so good. Better than the cigarette dizziness, he decided. In fact, he never wanted this moment to end, he wanted to feel like this forever.  
  
The cigarette burned slowly from the side of Casey's lips.  
  
*  
  
Posters of bands he's never heard, alcohol he's never experienced; novels he's never read, bedsheets he's never slept on... yet.  
  
Zeke's room was unique to say the least. A mattress in one corner, a dresser in the other; chaos everywhere else.  
  
Casey could feel a soft hand stroking his back as he lay motionless on the mattress, spilling the events that had happened earlier that day. Casey's eyes filled with fresh tears.  
  
"...before I could get the fuck out of the car he...he grabbed me and... pushed his hand down my jeans. I still can't believe that happened. It was the first time he ever... ever sexually abused me. I mean, fuck, he's hit me before... put me in a hospital before... but never this. Kicking the shit out of me is a lot less pathetic than this. I-I can't go back..."  
  
He turned to Zeke, who lay behind him, a sad expression on his face. Casey could sense the flames of rage burn in Zeke's dark eyes, but perhaps it was just the light when he saw a tear.  
  
"Stay with me, Casey. I couldn't let you go back into a place where someone doesn't love you... because I do." Zeke whispered, voice nearly breaking.  
  
"Really?" Casey breathed, wishing this to be true and not a fantasy.  
  
"Truly." Zeke smiled. But then, he smile faltered. "I never knew you suffered abuse further than bullying at school. I... I'm sorry. I can't stand to see you cry," he said quietly, while brushing tears from Casey's cheek with his calloused fingers. Casey tried to smile, it was an obvious effort, but he broke down into a miserable expression. Zeke embraced him.  
  
"You'll get through this." he soothed, "I swear. Or else I'll kick whoever's wise ass that gives you shit." He smiled. Casey laughed, and placed a kiss on Zeke's lips. Zeke grinned devilishly, and ran his fingers along Casey's chest. Before even stopping to think, he pulled the bedsheets around him and Casey, and carelessly tossed his clothes onto the floor. Casey, smiling while doing the same, noted that the sheets were almost as soft as Zeke's unkempt hair, in which Casey's fingers were entwined. 


	3. Safe Haven

AN: So sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. Its short but key. Please review.

Chapter Three: Safe Haven

It was strange how he felt as if he were spinning and falling; fast and uncontrollable, yet he felt he couldn't possibly slip from Zeke's strong grip. His arms around Casey felt inviting and warm. Casey felt his breath on his neck and he shivered. His face was still flushed from the aforementioned thrill; the kissing and bruising.

He held no anxiety here, in this place, time no longer mattered in Zeke's room. A muted sitcom on the television mounted atop the lopsided dresser cast pale lights across the walls. Casey wasn't sure as to when exactly the TV was turned on; nor if it had ever been off to begin with. The aqua-coloured ceiling comforted him. Zeke remained asleep through this wonder; and Casey believed that the sitcom was watching this part of their teenage years. This was the safe haven. The grey place, where white and black did not exist except together. The place where time, night, day and life were a figment of their imagination. And pain; pain was rendered deep below the surface. All Casey cared to feel here was serenity and reflection. To reflect on pleasures, and to angst. Angst and pain, no matter in what size, are different.

Zeke stirred, and placed a kiss gently on the back of Casey's neck. Casey's form shivered once again, trying to concentrate on the perfection this room held and not believing that Zeke was oblivious.

"It's quiet isn't it? Most kids had they're own place to go and think, like a treehouse, or a place by the lake. My house has been quiet for a lot of my life. Peaceful, almost. I used to think that the only way this place can be whole again is with my parents. Even though my whole house is always empty without them, I stay in here, because this is my place. The rest of it, was never owned by anyone, not really. This was never their home. But my room was always my quiet thinking place, like every kid has. And now, I'm getting used to the fact that it is peaceful here, a sort of tainted peaceful. And that's how it is."

Casey remained quiet, back facing Zeke as he listened to him speak. He sensed a bit of remorse in his tone, as his hands wandered Casey's back aimlessly. Casey could not help feel that the serenity had been disturbed, as Zeke's deep breathing was quickened and Casey fought to remain still. But with the new captivation and-- mirth?-- Zeke brought upon Casey, he could not help but smile.

He turned over to see Zeke's neutral face. The grin he once held on his face was gone, though Casey was sure the pleasure wasn't. He wondered what was going on in his head.

"Casey, your father won't touch you as long as I hold you. And the way I'm feeling, I'm never letting go."

Casey sighed. He had fought fiercely to forget time and reality. The stars outside Zeke's window scowled at him. School had ended many hours ago, and his father would be looking for him.

_'Here though?_ his mind scolded_ He'll never find you here, or expect for you to be leaving home for some drug-addicted guy.'_

__

"Leave home?" Casey thought aloud. Zeke looked to him.

"I don't think I could ever leave."

Zeke grabbed his shoulders. "What's waiting for you there, Casey? Your father's abuse, your mother's ignorance? What is home sweet home to you? _Certainly _not that fucking place!"

Casey sat rigid against Zeke's flailing. "Hundreds of images captured from my life, Zeke. Memories. Bad as they may be, I could never forget them at _that_ place.."

Zeke fell silent. "I said I'd never let you go. And I don't intend on doing so, because the world out there is waiting to eat you alive!" He gestured to the window. Casey glared, but his face softened as he realized Zeke was only concerned for his safety.

"You're going to have to let go of me sometime Zeke, because even though black and white can be together, they will never be one. In some sense, grey is a seperate colour. A whole other concept."

"What are you talking about?"

"We are both guys, Zeke! And once we leave this place that reality will hit us hard. It's inevitable."

"It doesn't matter, Casey! It doesn't fucking matter!" Zeke withdrew his arms from Casey.

Casey narrowed his eyes at the action. "You know it does."

Sorry it's a short chapter. I'm entering high school this year so I'll be really busy but I'll try my hardest to get another chapter up but my life is hectic so please be patient and I apologize once again. Review!


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